i've got problems as long as my arm
by disfordinosaur
Summary: It explains why Duncan was acting all proud - while no doubt two people locking lips in front of a loaded auditorium was exciting, the thought of Jeff going all the way with a fussy, cardigan wearing eighteen year old would almost be considered god-like. (a continuation of chapter 4 of Handle With Care).


When an overly competitive jag in a wheelchair is spontaneously flying through the air towards you in their efforts to win a community college debate, any normal person's reaction would be to catch him, right?

Right. And to be perfectly honest, Jeff Winger is one of the few normal people on Greendale's campus (according to his own not-so-humble opinion, of course. You can't ignore the facts). The moments following his catch and fail? One of the most abnormal moments of his life.

A few things. First, Simmons reeks of cheap cologne and what can only be described as burnt cheese (Jeff figures this is the smell of loosing a prime parking space and public humiliation). Second, Annie's hands are _remarkably_ strong - tiny and soft, and bizarre given the current situation. Third...

She shouldn't be able to kiss this well. She's _eighteen_ (oh god, she's _eighteen_) for chrissake. They're supposed to be all spit and tongue and-

(Wait, is he trying to tongue her? _What is happening?_)

Simmons is a dead weight, getting in the way of more important things. And all of those_ things_ happen to be or belong to Annie in some way. Jeff's brain (can't tell you which one) knows that nothing is more important than getting as physically close as he possibly can to her tiny, debate-sweater clad figure.

But apparently she doesn't have the same mind-set. In fact, she _pulls away_, triumphant and proud as she explains that man is evil. Jeff is dumbfounded.

(Her hands stay on his chest, and he wants to argue that woman is just as bad).

And just like that, Greendale wins, and she turns to him with a perky smile, peppily asking how well she went off-book. Because that's who Annie is: she takes the advice you give her, and warps it so that it fits into her own diabolical little needs, which, coincidentally helps you (him. helps him) out in the process. She wont take no for an answer, even if that means making out with the nearest, best looking guy in front of a loaded gymnasium.

Everyone's babbling and bustling around, completely unaware of Jeff's near-oblivious state. Whitman claps him heartily on the shoulder before departing with the Dean, shaking him out of... whatever that was.

(Shock, is was it is. It's mostly shock. And the knowledge to never underestimate Annie ever again).

Outside, she's a bit more shy, but doesn't seem the least bit embarrassed over what she did. She says to just pat her on the head again, but that's _way_ more difficult now knowing the feel of her hips beneath his hands.

Jeff does it anyway. Y'know, to save face.

But it's not like he went home that night and thought about the damn moment over and over again, because that's not the kind of guy Jeff Winger is. Jeff Winger is the type of guy who makes you think about him, not the surreal moment that passed between himself and an eighteen year old girl.

Except he totally did.

He just didn't expect other people to keep talking about it the next day. Afterall, this is Greendale. Old News can't even be remembered by fifty percent of the student body.

* * *

It starts when Duncan approaches him just before entering the school that morning.

(Correction: it _actually_ started when Little Miss 'Check Out What I've Been Hiding Beneath My Cardigan and Post-It Notes' decided she wouldn't allow herself to lose- Dangerous territory. Retreat slowly.)

"Congratulations, mate," Duncan says, clapping Jeff on the shoulder like the coach of some football team (the non-British kind). "The little one. That must have been quite the thrill ride, I must admit." Every other word out of Duncan's mouth reeks of the booze he no doubt helped himself to five seconds before this conversation started.

(All Jeff hears is 'the little one')

Jeff stares, clutching his books to his chest like some terrified schoolgirl. Fixing this immediately, he drops his arms to his sides, pulling out his (new) phone with his free hand. "Care to be a tad bit more specific, or do the cherry daiquiris you keep in your glove compartment only let you go so far?" Duncan gives one sarcastic bark of laughter. "Hilarious, my conquesting friend. So, I take it you've become fed up with the blond not bending to any of your advances, or are you simply truly that spectacular?" he chortles again. Jeff can feel his agitation growing. "Well, I do believe we both know the answer to that one," The psych professor says almost fondly as he marches away with a skip in his step. Jeff stares for a lot longer than he should.

The trek to Study Room F takes a lot longer than it should. People seem to stare for all of the wrong reasons, and for a few seconds, Jeff wonders if his new facial scrub has left some disgusting mark on his face (never trust the over the counter brands). He's nonchalantly eyeing himself in the screen of his phone when Starburns materializes into his path.

"Oh," Jeff stops in his tracks before they can accidentally collide. He has a faint idea of what crystal Starburns uses instead of deodorant (all over his clothes) and that would be a bitch to try and get out of his new favorite shirt of the week. "Can I help you, Starburns?"

But he just gives a skeevy grin and says, "Dude, if I wore a hat, I would totally be tipping it to you. Way to make people sign up for the debate team." The way he waggles his eyebrows shows he has more than just a passion for arguing about some of the most boring topics known to man. Jeff narrows his eyes. "Alright, I'll bite. And the reason for that is?"

"Hey, if the busty brunette does that with all of her partners, pretty sure everyone'll go home a winner." Starburns laughs, and Jeff is fairly certain he just got a contact high from the fumes on his breath.

The busty brunette. Oh, how he wishes Starburns was speaking of the constantly in a tube-top brunette who can most often be found at Greendale's recreation center. But Starburns would never be found in a place where people work to improve their bodies, and Jeff just so happens to have _her_ labelled as 'Busty Study Brunette' in his phone.

(And he wishes he didn't feel so damn guilty about that).

"Sorry, Starburns," Jeff replies. "But I'm pretty sure it was only a one-time thing for Annie."

Starburns snorts. "C'mon Winger. I know you strut around this place thinking you're a god, but I highly doubt you banged all of the 'exploration needs' out of her."

It's a surreal moment for Jeff (why is he having so many of these?). It feels like every drop of blood has been drained from his body, and he has to fight the sudden, weirdly primal urge to punch Starburns in the face. Him, who's never been in a fight his entire life, and who just so happened to have had his fingernails buffed this morning. It explains why Duncan was acting all proud - while no doubt two people locking lips in front of a loaded auditorium was exciting, the thought of Jeff _going all the way_ with a fussy, cardigan wearing eighteen year old would almost be considered god-like.

And the worse thing is, Jeff can't even bask in the glow. Because it's _Annie_. The one who's entirely off-limits, even with her weird combination of adorable and sexy, and who just so happens to have the best looking cleavage he's seen in-

_No._

Britta's supposed to be the one- Oh, God. _Britta_. She was at the debate with the rest of the group. What would she think? And has it really come to the time that Jeff Winger truly cares about what people think about his exploits?

(Except that _wasn't_ an exploit. That was Annie winning a debate. So, no blame on his shoulders then, right?)

"Uh, dude, you're not holding anything, right? Because you've kind of zoned off for the past-"

Jeff walks away without another word.

"Still a major douchebag." Alex mutters.

* * *

Apparently the reaction to whatever it is people think happened between him and Annie is mixed, because while many look at him with appreciation, others look as though he just murdered their first-born. Arriving at the study room can not come soon enough.

Annie's already in there, of course, with Abed, Shirley, and Britta. When Jeff enters, Abed gives a brief wave, and Annie looks up from her notes and smiles (that's it?). Britta gives him a look of deep distaste. Shirley just looks dangerous.

(Former territories deemed safe. Current: ABORT. ABORT.)

Abed nods sagely.

"Uh, morning gals and pals."

Britta snorts in response. Jeff arches an eyebrow in return. "Wow. Pierce's sessions must've really pissed you off if you can't even articulate." And that alone is usually enough to make her open her mouth and argue up a storm, which she _starts_ to do, but at a sharp throat-clearing from Shirley, snaps her mouth closed.

'Impressive' would be the word to use, if Shirley didn't look like she's about five seconds away from ripping his lips off.

"Here, Jeff," says Annie distractedly, pulling some papers out of her binder. "I have the notes you missed from Spanish on Monday. Sorry it took so long - I got kind of distracted by the debate." She wrinkles her nose at that, disproving of herself. As they lean for the pass and grab, the room goes very still. Annie drops her gaze and quickly sits back down, blushing from hairline to (nope, don't look there). Of course he wonders if she knows what people are saying about them. Judging from the looks he's earning from Shirley and Britta, they know enough. Abed does his usual, observing the situation with an impassive gaze. Jeff can only scoff at the bizarre tension, and wonder why the hell their lives are slowly becoming like Degrassi. Or, more importantly, why _his_ life is.

"Yeah Pierce, because I asked you for a stick of gum, that totally means my family has been stealing from yours for centuries," Troy's voice says as he and Pierce enter through the doors behind Jeff, thereby completing their little, increasingly becoming co-dependent, circle.

Pierce's response is typical and overly smug. "Glad to hear you admit it, my young-" (cue everyone tensing for the inevitable) "-friend." (and there's the silent breath of relief).

Benefited by the distraction, Jeff pulls out his phone, scrolling quickly through the text messages without actually reading them. As he has for the past few weeks now, he keeps his ears trained on any group chatter that may or may not be directed towards him. It's a call for concern when there is none.

When he looks up, everyone but Annie and Abed are staring back at him. It ranges from pride to fury, nervousness, and disgust.

Pierce is the first to break the silence (big surprise there). "Well, since no one else is going to say it, I will: Jeffrey, Annie, congratulations on proving us all wrong."

Annie looks up again at that, her smooth brow winkled in confusion. "Proved you guys wrong?" she repeats, all curious and innocent and hey looks like there's an upside, because it seems like she hasn't heard what's being said.

"He's just talking about the debate, An-nie," Shirley trills, making Miss Piggy sound like the world's most terrifyingly sweet supervillan.

"Yeah. He thought for sure no one would be there, and that the people who were would be asleep," Britta adds. "So, um, congrats!" A tight smile and a weak thumbs up only add to the flavor of her words.

Pierce apparently refuses to take their interruptions lying down. "Don't try and latch onto my moment, ladies!" There's a pause, like the universe is just hearing the implication of his words. It's takes Pierce five seconds to add: "There's only one thing about me you should latch onto, and that would be-"

_Ding Ding Ding._

Abed looks approvingly up at the PA system. "Saved by the bell."

There's the usual scrape of chairs and shuffling as they silently prepare to head off to their first classes. Pierce remains where he is, looking forlorn.

"I was talking about my penis!"

He is ignored.

* * *

Statistics goes by horribly. Professor Slater adamantly refuses his charms more than ever, and Jeff in return can't even allow his (long ago buried, but still clinging to life) fifteen year old self to appreciate her ass when she bends over to pick up some chalk. That's how messed up everything is.

Something has to be done, and hopefully before lunch.

Given the fact that he looms over a good portion of the student body, Jeff has no problems spotting Annie in the crowded hall. She's walking briskly, eyes forward, hands clutching at her backpack straps. So intent on her desire to get to class, she doesn't even notice Jeff swooping in.

"Hey, Annie, can I talk to you for a sec?" Without even waiting for a full response, Jeff grips her lightly by the arm and practically drags her into the nearest empty room. She literally let's out a squeak of surprise.

"Jeff!" Annie whines. "You know I can't be late for my finances class, and it's a five minute walk from here! Can't this wait?"

He let's out a quick sigh of frustration through his nose. Why out of every perky brunette to forcibly make out with him on campus, it had to be the one who is most concerned with her GPA?

Looking up, Jeff gives her a very hard look, and starts out briskly. "Alright, I'll make this quick. Apparently since you attacked me at the debate yesterday ("Hey!"), everyone on campus assumes I took you back to my place to return the favor."

It doesn't take long for her to put two and two together. Annie's mouth pops open in the shape of a very pink 'O' (oh god), and color rushes to her cheeks. "They... Everyone thinks we-?!"

"Had sex."

Annie squeaks again. She flushes even deeper, and doesn't look at him for a moment. Jeff suddenly realizes that dragging her into an empty classroom was a very bad idea, what with people still walking by, and the threat of him appearing on To Catch a Predator very near on the horizon.

"Annie, look. You don't need to freak out or worry about this, alright? This is Greendale - crap like this'll blow over as soon as people learn there are brussel sprouts on the lunch menu today." Why he needs to reassure her so badly is beyond him. It's probably the eyes. Seeing them upset is worse than being a kid and seeing how upset Bambi looked after his mom got shot. The warning bell rings, and Annie flashes him a doubtful look. Without saying a word, she hikes her bag up higher, and scurries out of the classroom, leaving a scented cloud of bubblegum and freshness in her wake. Jeff waits the appropriate amount of time before following her out.

Britta's waiting right outside of the class, and it takes a lot of effort for Jeff not to groan. Her arms are crossed, and her mouth is pursed in a very judgmental fashion. Jeff starts to walk in the general direction of anywhere but here, but Britta doesn't give up so easily.

"You sick pig!" she hisses, quickening her pace to keep up with his much longer stride.

"Care to be more specific, Britta? Or am I just being judged for the entire gender as a whole today?"

She grabs at his arm and forces him to stop. Her grip is almost tight enough to make him wince, and he can't think of any innuendos to break the tension, because hey, aren't they supposed to be 'just friends' now? "Do you realize what people are saying about you?" she demands. "You and Annie? God, you probably do, but you're just too much of a twisted douchebag to do or say anything otherwise."

"Britta, I've got other things on my mind right now, so if you could save your 'protect the sisterhood' rant for a later date, that'd be great."

"What, feel like going and corrupting another teenager?"

Jeff stiffens, and grits his teeth. "I had nothing to do with any of it," he snaps. "So, if you really want to go and yell at someone, take it up with Annie.

She conducted the mouth to mouth, not me."

"Yeah, but you certainly had no problem reacting to it. Shirley told me about Abed's new video. She went and warned you, and you probably subtly implanted the idea into Annie's head anyway."

"You do realize how foolish you sound right now, don't you?"

Britta glares. If it wasn't for the ridiculousness of their conversation, Jeff could easily point out how hot she looks when she's angry.

"You better watch it, Winger," she warns, and Jeff figures she gets a kick out of acting like a protective mom. "Annie's a good kid. Kissing you again could send her into a downward spiral."

"Alright, just calm down, Squirrel. No one said anything about it happening _again_."

* * *

"You're going to get best kiss in the yearbook, I'm sure of it. And I'm not just saying that because I helped move your ship along." Abed says. It enough to nearly make Jeff choke on his coffee.

"Don't worry. I highly doubt a moment like this in our lives will actually become canon. I mean, there's a high possibility we wont even remember this conversation by six o'clock tonight."

Jeff glowers. "That's reassuring."

"It is, actually. At least, we probably don't have to worry about this cropping up again until episodes later on in the season."

"Whatever, Abed," he scrubs a hand over his face, glad the rest of the group isn't here to grill him about where his mouth has been in the last twenty-four hours.

Abed takes a bite out of his carrot stick and cocks his head to one side. "You haven't complained once about me comparing our lives to a TV show. I've been throwing in a bunch of zingers just to see if you'd notice." He shakes his head at that, as if horribly disappointed.

"I'm not going to start feeling guilty, if that's what you're going for." Jeff retorts.

"Ah, but guilty about what? Admitting that you enjoyed kissing Annie, or the fact that you wont participate in your usual gimmick because your mind is still occupied by thoughts about kissing Annie?" Abed gives him a look, pulling the strap of his bag around his shoulders and standing up. "Take it from me and try to move past it. You don't want our lives to revolve around these romantic entanglements forever, Jeff, or people will lose interest." And with a turn on his heel that could make an antelope green with envy, Abed strides away, leaving Jeff alone to stew.

He could never admit to having enjoyed Annie's debate tactics, because in the end, all that would do for him would give him the label of being a bigger pervert than Pierce. Britta would never talk to him again. Slater would give him even less of a chance. He'd be the biggest pariah on a campus full of pariahs just for acting like a man and enjoying what was served to him.

And just like that, there it is. The budding pain behind his right eyebrow. Jeff groans quietly, pressing the palm of his hand to his temple, wondering how many people would react if his head exploded then and there.

"I can recommend a few techniques to get rid of stress headaches," Annie's voice says. "But you might not like some of them - they involve studying."

Jeff looks up, startled, and trying in vain to hide it. Annie's lingering next to the table, nearest to where Abed was previously, her expression somehow both sheepish and unreadable. She eyes him nervously, twisting her fingers around her backpack straps.

"When the hell did you get here?"

"I waited until everyone else was gone to talk to you," Annie replies back in a rush, sliding into the seat opposite of him. She looks frazzled and bright eyed, a usual look for her in the days coming before a big test. "Jeff," she says (in a voice that goes with the test face) "Do we need to talk about what happened?"

It takes him fifty seconds to process the question, and the tone of voice it's asked in. Like some concerned parent asking how you're doing after grandma died. Jeff blinks. "What? No. Unless, y'know, you need to talk about it, or something. Because then I might have to recommend a good therapist."

"I'm not taking any problems to Professor Duncan. He's harassed me enough already this year."

"I said a _good_ therapist. And what has he done?"

"_Jeff_!" she whines, and he's picturing foot stamping underneath the table. "Focus, please!"

"I am, Annie. What do you want me to say? That I've been stressing over you kissing me for the past two and a half days?"

"You dragged me into an empty classroom to try and fix everything. What else am I supposed to think?"

...Damn. She's got him there.

"Jeff, I haven't had time to think about it." Annie rolls her eyes, getting back to her feet. "Finals are coming up, and frankly, I have more important things to think about." She lifts her chin, looking extra formidable, even with two bright pink spots on her cheeks. "Maybe it's time you started realizing that you're not the bright center of the universe." She casts him a lingering look, one he's seen on much older women's faces many times, before walking away, her glossy dark hair bouncing against her shoulders behind her.

Well. That one actually stung a little bit. He didn't- Alright, if there's one thing the universe knows, it's that when Jeff Winger makes out with someone, they think about it, and they think about it a lot.

(Who classifies kissing in front of a gymnasium of full of sweaty people as 'making out' though? _God_, what is this place doing to him?)

For a moment, he starts thinking about ways of getting back at her, to give her something that will make her think of nothing but him for a good two days, at minimum.

Of course, he then reflects how impossibly sad and childish that is. Not to mention creepy.

She's _eighteen_, for chrissakes.

That means_ off-limits._


End file.
